Anthology
by SnowyNeko
Summary: For those of you who didn't get enough of the fe3 couples in-game. A collection of short stories that focus on various pairings. Updated as written. Written with love.
1. Chapter 1

This anthology is literally me just indulging myself and writing about Fe3 ships I like. I don't plan on taking requests, although that doesn't mean I can't be swayed. If I don't like a ship, though, I'm not gonna write it. This is just me having fun! Hopefully it'll be fun for all of you, too! Some ships will have multiple chapters, some will be oneshots, and some characters will take part in multiple ships. All ship stories are unrelated if the couple is different. And, uh...yeah. I actually have no idea what this is gonna turn into. I'm just writing. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Black Eagles—MaleBylethxLinhardt—Great Tree Moon

The water rippled lightly. It pushed up against the dock, sunk, and repeated. So much had happened in the past few weeks, so much had changed, but the rhythm of water was the same wherever he went. In the midst of the lively monastery and new responsibilities, the small fishing pond was a welcomed retreat. Even with the dogs barking and the conversations in the distance, so long as he didn't turn around, he could very well have been in a small village in the countryside.

He knew no one, and no one knew him. The world simply existed alongside him.

"Fishing, Professor?"

Byleth sighed inwardly, and glanced back to see one of his new students. The boy had an incredibly fragile air to him, but as he'd discovered, his tongue was deceptively sharp. Linhardt had thus far been the most difficult of his students to teach, not even second to the recluse.

"It seems odd to me that you'd spend your time here," the boy commented, walking to meet him at the edge of the dock. He crossed his arms and stared out at the water. Byleth looked up from where he sat and simply waited for him to finish what he'd started to say. "You're a new professor, and a young one at that. I would think that you'd be spending your time bogged down figuring out how to teach."

"Even if I am, I still need to relax." The bobber dipped for a moment. A fish was testing it out.

"That's true." The boy sat beside him, crossing his legs as well. They fell into silence as they watched a small shadow peck at the bait. Linhardt may have been hard to handle in certain lectures, but Byleth had to admit, he didn't seem to be bad company. Many of the students, as amiable as they were, were unable to keep their curiosity to themselves. He didn't mind answering their questions, but it was nice to be able to sit in silence for once.

In the end, the fish ended up snatching away the bait. He replaced it and cast the line back in, all the while his student sitting quietly beside him. As time passed, another student, Dorothea, called out to them and spoke with them briefly, but other than that, the two simply sat in each other's company until the sun began to set.

When he finally decided to call it a day, he pulled his line from the water and turned to Linhardt, only to find the boy had fallen asleep with his chin in his hand.

So he even napped outside of class.

After a moment of debate, he lightly shook the boy's shoulder. He just mumbled a bit and continued to sleep, so he did it again.

This finally got him to crack open his eyes. "...Hm?"

"Let's go inside and eat something."

The boy looked up blearily and blinked a few times. Then, he finally let his hand fall into his lap. "Ah, it does look to be about dinner time, doesn't it?" He accepted Byleth's hand up before he lazily stretched. "Let's go, then, before Caspar eats everything good."


	2. Chapter 2

Black Eagles—MaleBylethxLinhardt—Garland Moon

The courtyard outside of the classroom bustled with activity. Students and teachers alike passed through on their ways to other places, Edelgard and Hubert stood within the nearby pillars, deep in conversation; on the far end, Sylvain flirted with a group of girls, and on the other side Annette, Lysithea, and a girl from the Golden Deer Byleth had yet to get acquainted with had formed a study group.

And in the middle of it all, Linhardt laid like a corpse in the grass. His hands were folded atop his stomach, a grey cat curled up atop his chest, and his eyes were comfortably shut, as if the world around him didn't exist.

He looked so comfortable, Byleth didn't want to wake him. It was getting harder and harder to wake the boy whenever he fell asleep. The only way he could describe it was that it felt like disturbing a warrior absorbed in training. Linhardt, of course, was much less intense, but it was still the comparison that came to mind.

There was no reason to wake the boy now...but for some reason, Byleth was compelled. He found himself walking over to him. The cat lifted its head at his approach, but when he knelt to pet it, it suddenly vaulted off of Linhardt and the boy awoke with a sharp gasp.

"Wha..? Oh, Professor?" The bleariness wore from his eyes as he yawned. He sat up and stretched his shoulders. "What brings you to the classrooms on such a fine day?"

He showed his student the thin stack of papers in his hand. "I had to get materials to prepare for next week's lectures."

"But isn't today your day off? You should just enjoy it." The boy laid back down, stretched his arms above his head, then crossed them there and closed his eyes again.

"Or I could tutor you on the materials you missed while sleeping in my class this week."

Linhardt cracked open an eye, gave him a look, and closed it again. Originally, Byleth would have assumed he was ignoring him entirely, but over the past few months he'd learned that slight purse of his lips meant the boy was thinking about what he'd said.

"...Okay. I don't see why not. I might as well take my lessons lounging in the grass on a nice day if I can."

"In that case, keep your eyes open."

"You doubt me Professor? I'm hurt."

Even so, he complied and looked up at his teacher, waiting.

"How much of yesterday's lecture did you get?"

"Yesterday's? Not a lot. I can't say I'm fond of the history of weaponry. It just doesn't seem to have a current application."

"Even if you specialize in magic and strategy, the knowledge has its uses."

The boy twisted his head to better face Byleth, interest piqued. "How so?"

"An intimate knowledge of how your comrades' weapons work will help you formulate strategies. It's a weakness to be lacking in a field just because you don't put it into practice yourself."

This time, Linhardt sat up. "You're not incorrect, but how does the history of a weapon's creation help me in regards to that?"

"If you know the purpose of a weapon, and in what ways it was forged to achieve that purpose, you can gain insight on how the weapon can be used, where its weaknesses lie, and learn how to take advantage of its strengths and cover its weaknesses."

"I see." Linhart crossed his legs, his fingers gripping his chin as he fell into thought. "You could be right. I still think the topic is a massive bore, but perhaps it is indeed worth staying awake for. You know, Professor—" Linhardt let his hand drop and shifted to better face him. "—I had my doubts at first, but you're actually rather good at your job. The others must share my opinion. Otherwise Hubert would have gotten rid of you at least a month ago."

Byleth didn't need to be reminded of the man who'd threatened his life so easily, the very one who, even as he spoke with Edelgard a distance away, still kept a quiet and looming eye on him. The glimmer in Linhardt's eye made it obvious the boy was messing with him.

"If that's what you think, then reward me by paying attention in class."

"Reward you?" The mischief in his eyes glinted brighter, and he leaned in a hair closer. "A student, rewarding his teacher? Wouldn't that be inappropriate, Professor?"

Oh? Linhardt was playing with him. The realization came as a surprise, and perhaps, for a brief moment, the teacher let it show on his face. Then his mask was back, accompanied by a silent admittance that the boy's behavior...was entertaining.

"Paying attention in class is far from inappropriate. But if I decided to tutor you in private, where no one could see us…"

A grin spread on Linhardt's face even as he was surprised by Byleth's response. It was the most amused Byleth had ever seen him. "Now, now, Professor, you mustn't go saying things like that. People could misunderstand."

"You're the one misunderstanding." He tapped his papers in light chastation on the boy's head, and Linhardt snickered. Yet another new behavior from the boy. When had he opened up so much? Sure, they'd shared a few conversations about crests and magic, but that was one thing. When Linhardt began talking about such things, all his enthusiasm and attention went into the subject. He then had little care to spare for his conversation partner. But apparently, that was enough for him to get comfortable with him.

Well, Byleth supposed he'd grown to enjoy spending time with him over the past three months. It wasn't unbelievable that Linhardt felt the same.


	3. Chapter 3

Black Eagles—MaleBylethxLinhardt—Red Wolf Moon (after the Remire Calamity)

The staff meeting dragged on as different people drilled Manuela as to the details of the alleged magical virus that had plagued Remire. No matter how they approached it, though, it seemed all they could confirm were the effects, and the fact that Solon, who had infiltrated under the guise of Tomas, was clearly connected. Of course that was all they knew. After a week of incessant discussion and no new evidence, they weren't going to uncover any groundbreaking realizations. But both Seteth and Alois refused to stop thinking it over, and by the time the meeting was over, the sun had once again given way to darkness.

Part of Byleth wanted immediately to shut himself away for the night. Even so, when he came to rest his hand on the wood of his door, he didn't push it open. Night hadn't quite reached its heart yet. A few people still wandered between shadows in an effort to wrap up their days, and surely, many already in their rooms were still awake.

So Byleth let his hand drop, and started to walk the length of the dorm. When he stopped, he once again paused. Of all the people in the monastery, he would easiest believe Linhardt already asleep. But while the boy slept like a cat, he was also as rigorous as a hound, which lead him to numerous sleepless nights if he were to believe the boy's routine excuses.

The risk was worth taking. He knocked his knuckles lightly against the door.

The other side was quiet. Then, soft...

"Come in."

Linhardt was sitting at his desk, turned at an angle to see the door. His hair was still pulled back, his clothes still the academy uniform. Some of his hair, however, seemed in the process of escaping the white hair tie, and purple bruises hung under weary blue eyes. On the desk in front of him a book laid open, caged in by stacks of other reading material.

Byleth closed the door behind him silently. Linhardt didn't make any of his usual comments. Since he felt it would be intrusive to sit on the bed, which was notably made and unwrinkled, the professor stayed standing conspicuously by the entrance.

"How have you been, Linhardt?"

"Quite busy, Professor," the boy replied. Despite his obvious distraction, his voice lacked the usual vibrance his research brought him. As he spoke, his eyes shifted pointedly to the open book. "Black magic is rather difficult to study. The library lacks sufficient material on it. I'm forced to wonder if Tomas might have smuggled them out, or perhaps it's something the teachers would rather us students not learn."

"If you want to learn black magic, Hubert or Lysithea would be a good source."

"I know, and I have asked both of them. Their explanations were detailed, but Lysithea didn't have an idea as to how black magic could be used to cause an incident like the one in Remire, and Hubert wasn't willing to divulge that much. Have the faculty been able to learn anything yet?"

The professor shook his head, the weight of confirmed suspicion settling in his chest. Linhardt watched quietly as he approached, and crouched down to look up and search his student's eyes. "You're having difficulty dealing with what happened, aren't you?"

The boy rested an arm on the back of his chair and tilted his head, gazing evenly back. Byleth had never seen him so exhausted.

"It's only reasonable. The fight was exhausting. Everyone is confused on how to handle it."

"Everyone else is coming to class like normal. Linhardt, I haven't seen you once this week."

"Like I said, I've been researching black magic, so I've either been in here or in the library."

A pain was grinding away inside Byleth's chest. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt, but somehow, he knew precisely what was causing it.

"Linhardt. Talk to me. Your absence has worried me all week, and now that I've seen you, you look more of a mess than I feared. What happened at Remire was a nightmare, so please, share it with me."

The boy was silent. He stared at Byleth, the man staring back with the patience of a friend instead of a teacher. Weren't they friends? The man was hardly old enough to wield authority over his students, and the two of them had fought at each others' sides now for months. Even when they weren't on the battlefield, they shared meals, and fished, and he spent his free time tutoring Linhardt one on one, sometimes even complying with his research. When Linhardt had a breakthrough, the first person he would go to was Byleth, and the man would always listen intently, and now he was here, ready to listen yet again.

He broke eye contact when he turned his head into his hand, eyes hidden behind his fingers.

Another span of silence.

Then, after a slow breath, his words came quiet and shaken. "Those people...they were sick! They were just ordinary people who happened to fall ill. And instead of helping them, we _killed_ them. I've never liked the blood we spill, but this blood...it feels so filthy!"

A hand rested gently on his knee and the boy went rigid, the touch surfacing what he'd buried in feverish research. The tension caused him to tremble against his will. Byleth pushed to his feet and carefully laid a hand atop the one that had begun to dig into the boy's temples. When the boy was able to shift his head back to look up at his friend, he took his hand and coaxed him over to sit on the bed. Byleth didn't hesitate to sit next to him.

The moment he was reseated the boy put his head in both of his hands. "It's like their ghosts cling onto me. I don't even believe in ghosts, but the feeling is unshakable! And then there was Professor Jeritza, and now Tomas...the people we know are turning into enemies. How many more are there? Is there really any way of knowing? ...Are _you_ one of them?"

"I am not."

A few seconds passed, and Linhardt lifted his head out of his hands. How far into those purple bruises his hazed eyes had fallen.

"Yes...I know you aren't. I'm sorry Professor."

The harsh grind inside Byleth's chest grew sharper, and he reacted without thinking. He wrapped an arm around the boys shoulders and leaned him towards him. Linhardt laid his head compliantly on his shoulder. No tears escaped his eyes, but there wasn't a doubt in Byleth's mind.

The boy was crying.

It was unclear how long the two sat like that. Eventually, the younger of the two gradually slumped against the older, finally asleep. Byleth remained, not wanting to wake him.


	4. Chapter 4

FemaleBylethxDimitri (Post Ending *Spoilers for all routes*)

"...leth? Byyylethhh!"

Byleth finally broke her gaze away from the courtyard she hadn't really been seeing. Annette huffed. The little sorceress had grown into a lovely young woman. She'd grown her hair out since they parted, although it was hard to tell exactly how long it was with the way she'd bound it up. She still wore the same orange cape over her shoulders.

"Are you listening? This is important! When I went and asked Dimitri like you told me to, he said to bake whatever flavor _you_ liked! So would you _please_ tell me what flavor of cake you want so I can get working on it? I don't have any time to waste!"

Ah, she should have expected he'd say that. Sweets were nice, but everything was just so...over the top. But Annette wanted to bake the cake, and honestly, she wanted her to do it, too. It's just that she had wanted to leave all the details up to her ex-student, too, but the girl wasn't having it.

"I guess vanilla will do."

"You guess?" The girl set her hands on her hips. "Are you sure? Once I start, I'm not gonna have time to start over."

Byleth smiled. "I'm sure. Thank you, Annette."

The girl lingered, studied her for a moment, then accepted it and left to get to work. Byleth returned to staring at the courtyard, this time actually looking at it. It was odd, how white it was. White chairs, white flowers, a white aisle...it wasn't the same as when it snowed. The green grass peeking through made it seem off. Byleth hadn't thought it would feel so strange when she decided it should be outside.

Past the servants and knights decorating, the three classrooms stood off to the left. They were wide open. She could see into all of them where she stood. They hadn't been cleaned out. Instead, the tables and chairs and blackboards had all been pushed against the walls in case they'd needed the space.

They hadn't.

Byleth massaged her temple and left the courtyard. With all the preparations, the monastery bustled with more life, more merriment than it had in years, but the joy of the occasion wasn't reaching her. She wanted to be alone. She couldn't go to her old chambers. If she did, she'd have to stare at the dress.

So she went to the training grounds. Like the classrooms and courtyard, the training grounds were one of the few locations left untouched by the siege of Garreg Mach. Unlike she'd been hoping, however, it was not completely empty.

"Hey, it's our old professor!"

Ingrid promptly elbowed her husband, and the redhead grunted. "It's Archbishop, Sylvain." Then, hand over her heart, she bowed. "It's good to see you again, Archbishop Byleth."

"Come on, she said we could call her by name. But yeah, it's good to see you! Guess who showed up even though we couldn't find him to deliver the invitation."

This time her smile was a bit more real when she nodded to the man standing behind the two. Arms crossed, he defended, "I don't really care for celebrations, but I thought I should come, considering I followed you in battle for so long."

"I'm glad you all could make it."

"Of course, there's no way we couldn't come," Ingrid said. "It's an honor to be invited to our King and Archbishop's wedding, but both of you are also our commanders, and friends. I wouldn't be able to bear it if I missed such a day!"

"I have to say," Sylvain added, "it's strange to be staying in our old rooms like this. Not for school, not as our base…"

Felix scoffed. "The war's been over for almost two years. You need to put it behind you, Sylvain."

"I know, but—"

"Guys, we're here to celebrate a marriage. Can we not talk about the war?"

"Ingrid's right. We should go get a drink, Felix! It's been forever since we last saw you!"

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, the three went to head off into the recovering town to catch up. Like Annette, they'd grown. Ingrid still wore her armor as a knight, but it was strange to see Sylvain out of his. He'd been focusing more on politics than fighting, according to the messages he'd sent to Dimitri, and traded his armor for warm, quality threads. Felix's hair had grown even longer than it was before the war, long enough he no longer bothered with tying it back. He'd vanished after the Battle of Enbarr, but everyone pretty much knew what he was doing. He still wore the Sword of Zoltan at his side.

A cloud moved in to shadow the arena. The now empty arena. Byleth drew a sword from one of the racks and moved to the center of the training grounds. She held it up to the air in front of her. It was an old weight. The fingers of her other hand ran across the firm blade at her own side before she gripped its handle as well. She didn't draw it, though.

Then the cloud shifted away, the sun glared into her eyes, and she startled when, for not quite a second, a girl stood impaled on her blade.

It wasn't real, gone in an instant, but she remembered every detail clearly as she threw away the sword. The pale skin, dark eye bags, cropped hair the same color, and the pungent stench of iron.

It was just the sword. The one she'd picked up was iron.

She pivoted and left the blade on the ground behind her, veins visible under the stretched-thin skin of her knuckles as she gripped the hilt of her bone sword. The scent had left her dizzy. It'd been awhile since she'd felt this dizziness, but when she felt it, she always went to one of two places.

Not knowing where Dimitri was, she chose the chapel.

The rest of the monastery was all but restored, but the chapel's dome was still half missing. Supports had been added, the rubble long cleared, but services wouldn't be held until the restoration was complete. Usually there were always people in the chapel, but that day, maybe because of the preparations for the next morning, the sanctuary was desolate.

Byleth sat in a pew and put her forehead in her hands. There was nothing for her to look at. There were the saint statues, the statues that were truly just ancient people. She even knew two of them! She knew everyone tied to the church! And the only one that was truly inhuman, the only one who was truly a _god,_ was gone.

Sothis! Oh Sothis, why couldn't they talk? Even after everything, she didn't understand. The girl had insisted she would still be alive after they merged, but how could she be alive when she was nowhere to be found? When Byleth, the one the goddess gave her powers to, couldn't summon her?

Sothis, why hadn't there been another way? A way two avoid merging, a way to have stopped Those Who Slither In The Dark earlier? A way to have avoided the war!

She looked up at the empty chapel, at the colored light streaking in through the half dome. She could almost see Dorothea singing. How many times had she seen her singing here? She would have sang at her wedding. She'd said as much herself one day.

Then Byleth rewound time and taught the Blue Lions instead.

All the times she'd sang with Dorothea, all the dinners with Ferdinand, all the after class studying with Linhardt and Petra, and training with Caspar and cooking with Bernadetta and those weird conversations with Hubert and...and Edelgard…

She erased all of it. Just like she'd erased those times with the Golden Deer. But this time was worse. Claude was clever, always so clever, and he made do without her. As heartbreaking as it was to see those kids go on with their lives separate from her, only Hilda had been a casualty when she changed to the Black Eagles. Only Hilda. The fact she could think that as a positive…

But Edelgard was not the same. No matter what she tried, if she didn't choose to teach the Black Eagles, they perished. But she'd wanted to try one more time. She'd wanted to see if she sided with Dimitri, if that would prevent the war entirely. She didn't know what to expect when she did it. Dimitri changed so much during the war, and she couldn't understand it from afar. Still, even not understanding, a piece of her heart had went out to him.

That damned piece.

She had known he was chivalrous and friendly. She had not expected such sensitivity, such true kindness. She definitely had not expected the unfamiliar attachment that had formed within her. She had foolishly not expected that even with her by his side, he would still change so drastically. She hadn't known what torments so similar to hers he'd go through.

And that was the end. She couldn't abandon him. Without knowing what it was, she'd fallen in love with him, and suddenly she couldn't go back anymore. Dimitri was like Edelgard. If she didn't choose to teach his house, he would die. Gruesomely. Bitterly.

So she killed the last students she'd saved.

As if she didn't know who they were.

As if they weren't friends.

"Byleth!"

She started and whipped her head to find Dimitri rushing to sit beside her, pulling her into an embrace.

"What's wrong? Why are you crying? It would make me delighted if you were crying tears of joy, but it tears my heart to see you distressed. Please, tell me what's wrong!"

She released her sword, what remained of Sothis, to cling to him. How could she tell him? He'd endured so much, so much that just removing one person in his life would have caused him to shatter beyond repair. It'd be cruel to add her problems to his.

It was a while before her throat relaxed enough that she could talk. She pulled away to sit on her own, but Dimitri took her hand and kept it. His blond hair was brushed smooth, kept no longer than chin length since the war, and his casual attire, as a king, was extravagant, with gold and silver and fur, and also accents of blue. He wasn't in armor today.

Hardships though endured, part of him was still very much the honorable boy that had made her chest tight with admiration.

Her eyes went to the eyepatch that hid what was once a pale blue eye.

His shoulders slumped, his eye lowering as he touched the eyepatch with his other hand. "You're thinking about the war. The sins we've committed."

Her sins...were more than he realized.

"You're not worried about if we deserve to be happy, are you? It is you who told me that we've suffered enough."

No, Dimitri, she said_ you_ had suffered enough. But really, it wasn't a question about suffering. Honestly, she thought she had put these fears behind her and resigned them to their ghosts already. She couldn't fix it, so she had to come to terms with it. But marrying the man she'd chosen over those kids, in the place where they used to be, it was like trampling on the memories they'd shared together. And she was the only one who had those memories, because by her hand, she'd also erased them from time.

"It's ghosts," she said, knowing he'd understand.

"Yes," he murmured. "They're all over this monastery." They fell into silence. Even though there was no certain way to know, each knew the other truly _saw_ them, the ghosts that haunted them. "You…" Dimitri hesitated, drawing her attention. After a moment, he looked up and met her gaze. "You never have told me who it is you see."

...She hadn't. Because that was where they differed. Dimitri saw ghosts because he felt guilty for surviving. It's true that he deeply regretted the lives he took, but the ones that followed him around weren't those he killed by his hand. She didn't like to think about the differences in their pain, because it was in their similarities that they found comfort in each other.

But it was a fair question, and one he had never asked in all this time. If he felt the need to ask, then she would answer.

"Them…" She glanced back to where the colored light decorated the floor. "Dorothea's always here. I can still hear her singing. The others I see in other places." Places she'd spent her time with them when that time still existed.

"I guess you were a professor, even to them. I also see Edelgard...although she never says anything."

But it was so much more than just being a professor, and suddenly, Byleth was struck with the need for him to understand that. With Sothis gone, he was the only one who could grasp the extent of what she'd experienced. But that meant laying her burdens on him. She had also never breathed a word about that power to anyone. If there was one thing she was sure of, time was not a toy, and it was treating it like it was putty that had done this to her.

"What is it?"

Her free hand reflexively touched her face, but it didn't feel like her expression had changed. Still, he waited for her answer, ever patient. He was kinder than she deserved. She loved him enough to accept the death that had passed so he could live. That was why she agreed to marry him tomorrow.

...So, couldn't she trust him?

"Come to my room tonight."

It took a second, but then the king began to flush. "P-Professor, such things are usually saved until after the ceremony!"

Her confidence grew when he fumblingly reverted his old way of addressing her. "That's not what I meant. I mean I want to talk to you. There are some things...I need to tell you."

He cleared his throat as he gathered his bearings. He didn't ask why she couldn't just say it now, or what she wanted to talk about. Instead, he stood, and bent to place a kiss on the back of her hand. "Then, I will come. Please be well the rest of the day. If you feel like crying again, please, come find me. I can understand the need to cry, but I can not stand the thought of you doing so alone."

When she simply stared at him in response, he gave her a soft smile and laid his lips gently against hers in a brief kiss. Only after he leaned back did Byleth release his hand. He left to continue with the preparations.

Taking the Sword of the Creator in her lap, she ran her hands over it, then looked up at the blue sky beyond the ruined dome. The world was full of awful things, but if not for her turning back time the way she did, she would never have had Dimitri at her side.

She was thankful for that, at least.


End file.
